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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23249929">The Temptation of Galahad Dulak</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chess_Blackfyre/pseuds/Chess_Blackfyre'>Chess_Blackfyre</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Galahad Dulak: Space Doctor and Rare Emotionally Stable Jedi [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Even When the Force is Being Stubbornly Vague, Gen, Non-Graphic Violence, Trust in the Force, now with art</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 16:01:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,859</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23249929</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chess_Blackfyre/pseuds/Chess_Blackfyre</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Galahad is seventeen years old, she and two friends are sent on a training mission to the planet of Sarkhai. An encounter with slavers forces the young Jedi to confront the darkness within herself to try and rescue her friends.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Galahad Dulak: Space Doctor and Rare Emotionally Stable Jedi [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1664269</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>101</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Dive</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So, how's everybody's quarantine going? Apparently, I'm spending mine writing Star Wars fanfic, but I'm having fun with it.</p><p>Warning for slavery (non-graphic discussions) and violence against minors</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Galahad Dulak is seventeen years old and life is good. As her chrono chimes the alarm, she stretches and rolls out of the small bunk. Dresses in her robes, comfortable shoes, brushes her hair and twists it back into the usual chignon bun, slipping the hairpins into their familiar place.</p><p> </p><p>Dressed and out the door in five minutes, she follows the smell of caf through the ship's short hallway the galley. Well, more of a dining room, really. A togruta boy was already there, looking at his datapad. Coza Zavros, togruta, and one of the two other people currently staying on the ship. </p><p> </p><p>“The rest of the pot’s yours, if you want it.” Coza offered, speaking up. “Alivia and I already drank plenty."</p><p> </p><p>Humming in acknowledgment, she poured herself a mug. Alivia was no where to be seen, and nowhere close enough to be immediately sense. That in and of itself wasn't surprising, the rattataki was an almost annoyingly early riser, and had a habit of wandering off by herself when she had the time to. Besides, they didn't need to be anywhere for another two hours, so it wasn't a big concern.</p><p> </p><p>This region of Sarkhai had been affected by a series of earthquakes that had been much more intense than predicted. Most of the damage was in the infrastructure and fields, both of which the planet’s own relief agencies were more than capable of handling on their own. But it was also a perfect opportunity to send a handful of young ServiceCorps members there as a training mission. Here, they would work hands on with the local agencies, learning how to operate within another planet's organization and how to work with those outside the Jedi Order. That way, when they were called out to a much bigger disaster, they wouldn’t have the sting of inexperience.</p><p> </p><p>Coza was Education Corps, working with the kids whose education had been disrupted with the earthquake, helping with classes in impromptu schoolrooms. Alivia, as a member of AgriCorps, would be helping with the fields, seeing what could be salvaged and helping with clean up efforts to get debris out of the fields. Galahad, as MediCorps, would be in the medical tents, helping out as was needed. Sometimes that meant setting casts, other times that meant tracking down pharmacies to requisition needed medication. They were really there to make themselves useful, rather than any hard-line goals.</p><p> </p><p>They were also there alone. At seventeen, they were considered responsible enough to be trusted--and besides, they had to call in every night to give a debrief and talk about what they’d learned anyway.</p><p> </p><p>Taking her cup, Galahad stepped outside, watching the beautiful Sarkhai sunrise. She enjoyed the peace and quiet. Their shuttle was parked down about two klicks from the nearest settlement as per instructed, and the walk was lovely enough that no one minded.</p><p> </p><p>Coza came out to join her soon enough, still typing away at his datapad. Galahad made it a general rule not to snoop on other people's thoughts and feelings--basic curtesy really when you spend your life surrounded by other empaths and telepaths--but she couldn't help but feel a wave of unease from her fellow Jedi.</p><p> </p><p>"Something wrong?"</p><p> </p><p>"Hm?" Coza looked up. “It’s nothing," he shrugged, his shields rising back up. "It’s just--well, Alivia went out for a walk and said she'd call in by now."</p><p> </p><p>The human girl took another drink of caf. "I wouldn't be too concerned. Liv can get a bit...absent-minded at times. She's probably off smelling the roses and enjoying the feel of the Living Force around her."</p><p> </p><p>The togruta smiled. "I've noticed. I heard that she actually <em>volunteered</em> for AgriCorps. That woman is more into plants than anyone I have ever met."</p><p> </p><p>"Well," Gal shrugged. "We all have our different callings."</p><p> </p><p>That was when she felt it; a call of warning in the Force. “GET DOWN!” Danger, but where--</p><p> </p><p>A sharp sting in her neck, and then Galahad knew nothing but darkness.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The first thing Galahad’s aware of was a voice. The second thing she was aware of was the weight of cuffs on her wrists.</p><p> </p><p>“--intel was good. Three Jedi kids and no lightsabers. They’ll catch quite the pretty penny at market.”</p><p> </p><p><em> Market. Slavers. </em>Galahad forced herself not to move, to keep breathing slowly, like she was still asleep. She cautiously opened one eye at a time, finding herself staring at a durosteel wall. She felt Coza beside her, his presence muted and fuzzy with unconsciousness. Alivia wasn’t close by but she could feel her somewhere in the vicinity.</p><p> </p><p>“And that’s not even touching the ship itself. Sure it’ll be a bit of a hassle to strip everything, but it’ll be worth it.”</p><p> </p><p>Stop. Breathe. Think.</p><p> </p><p>Fact: Force sensitives were worth a lot of credits to a lot of very immoral people. A lot of them slavers.</p><p> </p><p>Reasonable assumption: They’ve been grabbed by slavers. </p><p> </p><p>Fact: No one knows they’re in trouble. No one would know anything was wrong until they didn’t show up for their stations.</p><p> </p><p>Reasonable assumption: It’ll take time before someone comes looking for them. Unlikely that someone immediately comes prepared for armed conflict. She couldn’t rely on any kind of rescue in the near future.</p><p> </p><p>Fact: No one took her hair pins. And they bound her hands in front of her.</p><p> </p><p>Slowly, so slowly, Galahad used the Force to pull one of her hairpins out of her chingon and into her palm. She had been working in the lower levels of Coruscant since she was thirteen. Mentors and patients alike warned her about the dangers. That she should always stay aware of her surroundings, and always be ready for someone to think that a weaponless young human would be easy pickings. Thank the Force for paranoia, as building up a tolerance to some of the most common sedatives was what probably let her wake up earlier than expected.</p><p> </p><p>The door slid open and Galahad nearly had a heart attack there and then. Stopping her lock picking, she closed her eyes, slowed her breath, and pretended to still be asleep. </p><p> </p><p>Alivia was carelessly dumped on the floor next to her, the guard grabbing Coza next. Galahad waited until the door was closed again before she looked over. The Rattataki was still unconscious, but her presence was muted by more than just that. It probably had something to do with the collar around her throat.</p><p> </p><p>She’d heard of Force-dampening technology, but this was the first time seeing it in action. Another deep breath.</p><p> </p><p>Fact: Once they have her friends loaded up on the ship along with what they'd stripped from the shuttle, the slavers would have no reason to stay on planet.</p><p> </p><p>Keeping them on planet is her first priority. If they can’t leave, that’s more time for them to be found and rescued.</p><p> </p><p>But Galahad couldn't rely on passive chance. Get to a comm system and call someone herself. She had both the local authorities and the Jedi contact memorized.</p><p> </p><p>She suppressed a smile, and once more stilled her breathing. Not ten minutes later, the guard returned, dumping Coza on the floor, and grabbing the last Jedi. Galahad allowed herself to be lifted up, forcing herself to be limp and boneless. Waiting until they were on the other side of the cell doors to finish picking at her restraints.</p><p> </p><p>The plan was to knock this guy out, grab a comm system and call someone. Yeah, that sounded nice and simple. Galahad was totally going to save her friends.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Okay, so change of plans. First, she had to stay alive <em> then </em>save her friends.</p><p> </p><p>When plan A had been a bust--the sons of bitches locking down their comm systems with some kind of passcode, the plan then turned into Destroy Everything and Run.</p><p> </p><p>Meaning, sabotage every vaguely important looking thing she could reach while crawling through the maintenance hatches. The cockpit was too risky to chance, and while she had no idea what the hell she’d ripped out of the engines, it was probably important based on the way they were yelling and shooting at her.</p><p> </p><p>Yes, shooting. After making her way off the ship, and getting spotted by the guard, Galahad made a Force assisted dash into the forest. Even with the head start, the rather incensed slavers were not far behind her. They had weapons and numbers, but she had the Force--and the Force was great about letting her know when to duck and roll, when to zig and zag out of the way of blaster fire. The tree cover also helped.</p><p> </p><p>What the Force neglected to clue her in on though, was that the slaver ship hadn’t been parked conveniently close to the shuttle. Because why make things easy on her? Galahad ran, and hoped she was headed towards civilization, or at least someone who wasn’t actively trying to kill her.</p><p> </p><p>No such luck, as when Galahad broke the treeline she realized what she had been running towards was a sheer cliff, dropping down into the ocean below</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Oh kriff. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The young Jedi had no fear of the water. Some of her first memories were splashing around in the sand and surf, and she was the best swimmer in her clan (to be fair, they didn’t have any more aquatic species like quarren or nautolan at the time). What she <em> was </em>concerned about was the shoreline full of jagged rocks where the water met the land, including more than a few sticking out of the water.</p><p> </p><p>Jumping off would to be suicide to most normal sentients, and all the Force abilities in the universe wouldn't change all those rocks ready to skewer her below. Even where the water looked clear, there could easily be debris just under the surface.</p><p> </p><p>She heard the noises of pursuit behind her. There wasn’t much time.</p><p> </p><p><em> Trust in the Force, </em>Master Qui-Gon’s voice whispered in a memory. Feeling a warm hand on her shoulder, Galahad jumped.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Cave</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Galahad’s Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day continues.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warnings for non-graphic descriptions of injury<br/>Also, I'm not entirely sure how accurate I'm being with how the Force works, but I'm giving it a go!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The freefall was all to short before she hit the water. The impact was sharp, the water was cold, and the young Jedi felt someone had hit her in the chest with a club before stabbing her in the leg.</p><p> </p><p>Opening her eyes to the sting of the salt water, she saw and felt the wound in her left thigh. A small read cloud floated in the water as the salt made her doubly aware of the wound. Her leg had hit one of the rocks in the water. A few centimeters over and it would have cut open the femoral artery and she would have bleed to death. Now she had to swim away, in salt water, with an open wound.</p><p> </p><p>Great.</p><p> </p><p>Not daring to surface for air, Galahad oriented herself and started swimming parallel to the shoreline. If she swam to open ocean, she could get lost and drown, and swimming back to shore was almost as risky. She’d trust in the Force, and look for someplace safe to step back onto land.</p><p> </p><p>After a minute her chest began to burn, lungs straining for air. But all those ill-advised breath holding competitions in the temple pool hadn’t been for nothing, as she knew she could go another two minutes before she was at risk of suffocating. (From a certain point of view, her first kiss had been mouth-to-mouth CPR from Master Fisto. Galahad had to wear floaties for two months but the bragging rights alone made it worth it).</p><p> </p><p>It was during those two minutes that saw a small opening in the rock--it could be a flue that opened up into a sea cave.</p><p> </p><p>Or it could be a dead end.</p><p> </p><p>Galahad broke the surface of the water, grabbed a deep breath, and decided to risk it.</p><p> </p><p>The shaft was just wide enough to get through, although her leg wound <em>definitely </em>didn’t like getting scrapped up against the rock. Galahad’s head broke water only a minute later and she savored those first few breaths of musty air as she braced her arms up on the cold stone floor. Then she opened her eyes and found she could barely make out her nose in front of her face.</p><p> </p><p>The cave was pitch-black, but that was the least of her problems. Another breath, and Galahad pulled the rest of her body up and out of the water. With a wet slop she was out, laying on her back as she stared up into darkness.</p><p> </p><p>The pain in her leg throbbed once more to her attention, the pain stabbing with each beat of her heart. Wet socks were also a unique kind of hell. The teenager pushed both feelings to the side as she considered what to do next.</p><p> </p><p>She was away from the slavers, yes but also away from any kind of help. Safe for the time being, but now there was really no way for her to contact anyone. Not to mention she wasn’t even sure how long she could stay here, no matter how much she'd just like to stop and take a nap. Galahad had no idea if this was high or low tide. If in a few hours, this cave would just fill with water, leaving her at risk of drowning if she didn’t get back out. Not to mention that with how cold the cave was and how wet her robes were, there was a good chance of her getting hypothermia.</p><p> </p><p>A sharp exhale. One thing at a time. Reaching down, she felt for the wound at her thigh, and hissing when she touched it. It hadn't punctured a major artery thanks the Force, but it was still pretty serious. The adrenaline had kept her swimming, but she was dangerously close to crashing. Crashing meant her body would just want to rest. As established, that would be a pretty kriffing bad idea.</p><p> </p><p>The pain wasn’t the hard part, the hard part was making herself focus. Healing required an exact kind of focus, a kind that was hard to hang onto now that she had the space to actually think and <em> feel </em>. </p><p> </p><p>Fear. Fear for her friends. Fear for her safety. Slavers. Blasters. Drowning. Anger, so much anger--a fire in her chest. Hopelessness. Despair. No, not despair--fear. She was afraid.</p><p> </p><p>Deep breath in, deep breath out.</p><p> </p><p>Galahad did not shove her emotions aside or release them into the Force. That wouldn’t really deal with them, just shoving them into a box they could easily crawl out of later. </p><p> </p><p><em> “To feel anger at injustice, to feel rage at the pain of another, that is natural,” </em> Aya Knori had told her. <em> “Your feelings do not matter, so much as what chose to you do with them.” </em></p><p> </p><p>She is afraid, she is angry, and she is suffering. </p><p> </p><p>Galahad is afraid for her friends. That means she must get up. Galahad is angry at the slavers. That means she must get up. To get up, she must heal herself. To heal herself, she must <em> focus. </em></p><p> </p><p>Deep breath in, deep breath out. Her feelings don’t go away, but they do not burn in her chest. Channeling both her feelings and the Force, she feels her pain float away as muscle, sinew, and flesh knit back together.</p><p> </p><p>It was as she breathes again, relishing the lack of pain, that she feels a warmth underneath her, and spreading. Crimson veins creep out from underneath her as the stone begins to...glow. The red light spreads among the rock, and bathes the Jedi in the warm, red light.</p><p> </p><p>The Jedi smiles, and laughs.  She’s heard of stones like this, places where even non-living matter is sensitive to the Force. Master Qui-Gon told her about the River of Light on his own homeworld. Of course she’d find one on Sarkhai, while in the midst of a life or death situation.</p><p> </p><p>And now that she can deal with her wet socks.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Galahad wrings her clothes out as best she could and lays them out on the stalagmites to dry. She then sat down on the warm stone floor and closed her eyes. Slipping into meditation is all too easy, focusing on the Living Force all around her. A comforting heartbeat as the stone veins thrummed with the Force. Practically a lullaby, an assurance of safety and familiarity, but she must not fall asleep.</p><p> </p><p>As her awareness begins to stretch outside of her own body, the Jedi realizes that she can’t be more than a few miles away from the slaver's ship. Well, if it’s still grounded that is. Galahad damaged the engines, yes, but she has no idea if she delayed them for an hour or a day. She’s never tried to stretch her awareness out that far, but this would be the time to try. Another breath, and she allows herself to drop as she pushes outward.</p><p> </p><p>She loses all sense of time by the time she finds the first life signs. Almost directly above her, it thrums with the same anger and frustration she felt, although for completely opposite reasons. Hm. It seems the slavers have lost her, if only for the time being. She could feel no immediate danger to her through the Force.</p><p> </p><p>Spreading herself further, she followed the life lights like a trail of breadcrumbs back to the slaver’s ship. Oh yes, there was a lot more frustration there. Galahad had never been good at reading exact thoughts, so she can only infer the cause. Hopefully, it meant her sabotage had been effective. At any rate, they were staying put for now, and that gave Galahad what she most needed--time. </p><p> </p><p>She could have wept when she felt Alivia and Coza’s life signs. Still closed off to her in the Force, still bound by the collars, but not dead. It was if their lights were trapped behind a transparisteel window.  Galahad tried to make them aware of her, brushing up against the barrier and visualizing herself tapping on the window. </p><p> </p><p>It's when she's waiting for a response that she sees it. Well, she sees it the same way you see something out of the corner of your eye--at the peripheral and aware of its presence but nothing more. A knot in the Force. Or at least, that’s the only way she can think to describe it, like a tangle in a tapestry. Try as she might, she couldn’t bring it into focus, the knot too far or too hidden for her to get a good sense of it.</p><p> </p><p>Frustration building, she turns away and goes back to her friends. She still can’t feel anything from them, beyond the fact that they still live. A few more tries and nothing. With one last tap to the glass, she looks to the others around them. Alert and hostile, five of them guarding the ship. Combined with the five in the field, that makes ten of them.</p><p> </p><p>Ten lives, ten problems for her to deal with.</p><p> </p><p>Galahad comes back to herself with a breath, opening her eyes to the warm, red, glow of the cave. She wasn’t sure how much time had past, but based on the fact that her clothes were dry and her ass was numb, it had probably been awhile. She looks around, and noticed that the room wasn’t completely enclosed--the veins trailing down the floors of a corridor across from her.</p><p> </p><p>Interesting.</p><p> </p><p>She put her underwear back on first, walking around the perimeter of the cave as her legs woke up and she shook out the rest of her clothes. The cloth was stiff form the salt, the synth-leather boots streaked with white, but it was all dry and still wearable, and that was what was important.</p><p> </p><p>Galahad walked over to the hole in the wall, standing just on the lip of it. The knot in the Force calls to her, a siren beckoning closer.</p><p> </p><p>Exhaling, she steps into the dark.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sometimes following the will of the Force means meditating naked in a cave</p><p>Full credit to Ardent Aspen2 for the idea of the glowing rocks that respond to Force-sensitivity.</p><p>As always if you have any thoughts/questions/concerns or just want to scream your feelings at me, comment below and let me know!</p><p>I am chess-blackfyre on tumblr and feel free to message me about my stories there!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Darkness</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>That feel when you look around for an adult, but all you find is the Dark Side of the Force</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> Peace is a lie, there is only passion </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Through passion, I gain strength </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Through strength, I gain power </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Through power, I gain victory </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Through victory, my chains are broken </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The Force shall free me </em>
</p><p>--The Sith Code</p><hr/><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>The knot, as it turned out, was actually the Dark Side. Because of course it was.</p><p> </p><p>It was a little embarrassing how long it had taken her to figure that out. Galahad knew of the Dark Side, of course, but in a removed, academic sense. She knew it was something to be avoided, even eradicated when it was found. So much so that planets strong in Darkness—Korriban and Dromund Kaas, the seats of the Sith Empire—have been purposefully lost to time.</p><p> </p><p>All she could do was keep walking straight towards it.</p><p> </p><p>Galahad really wished there was a more dramatic way of putting it: hurrying, marching, speeding along the red-lit tunnel, but really she was just kind of walking. She had to conserve her energy and to carefully watch for natural pitfall, drops, or divergent pathways. But there had only been one path so far, the red light crawling along the walls and floor as she stepped onward.</p><p> </p><p>The teen tried to focus on that, on the veins that looked like roots or blood vessels. But it was impossible to make yourself not think of something. The moment someone said ‘don’t think about pink acklays’ all you could think about were the multi-limbed predators, now with a strange pink hue. But without anything else to focus on, all she was left with was her own thoughts. Memories of Outer Rim refugees--tongues parched, scars on their wrists and necks from the bindings. Now with Alivia and Coza’s faces. To imagine the pain, the indignity that they would live through--what she would have lived through if she hadn’t awakened. Three Jedi made slaves to the galaxy’s <em> scum. </em></p><p> </p><p>The anger lights a fire in her chest, and she lets it burn. Galahad’s frustration merely stokes the embers as she is stuck here, helpless to act. Helpless to do anything but just <em> walk. </em></p><p> </p><p><em> They could be long gone by now. </em> She thinks, gritting her teeth. <em> Alivia and Coza could be dead or on their way to being some damn Hutt’s slave-dancers all because I’m stuck down in these kriffing tunnels. </em>Her steps quicken, but her thoughts do not slow. Until even that spirals outward to just mentally cycling through her favorite expletives.</p><p> </p><p><em> Kriff the slavers, kriff Sarkhai, </em> <b> <em>Kriff this whole Sith-damned mission!</em> </b></p><p> </p><p>“C’mon, Dulak,” she tells herself. “Try to be productive. You need to <em> think </em>.” Ten slavers, ten problems to deal with.</p><p> </p><p><em> If I was a padawan this never would have happened, </em> part of her seethed. <em> With a lightsaber-- </em></p><p> </p><p>“No,” Galahad paused, running a hand over her face. She wasn’t a padawan, she didn’t have a lightsaber, so there was no point at fuming about it. No matter how satisfying the image of a slaver choking on plasma was. And it was a really, <em> really </em>satisfying image.</p><p> </p><p><em> Resist the Dark Side, reject the Dark Side </em>her childhood masters had taught her. That was all well and good on Coruscant, surrounded by the lights of thousands of Jedi. Where she was safe and cared for and <em>not </em>dragging her ass through miles of tunnels with the Darkness practically breathing down her neck and her feet sore and her friends are still captured and she hates everything and—and—</p><p> </p><p>Deep breath in, deep breath out.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Trust in the Force. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>It was one of Qui-Gon’s earliest lessons: that if she let herself be open, let herself trust, the Force would take care of her. The fundamental energy of the universe would lead her where she needed to be.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “After all,” he smiled. “It was certainly the will of the Force for us to find you in Ciilyra, and to bring you back to the Temple with us.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The Force has led her here, to this cave, to this tunnel, towards that knot of the Dark Side. If the Force had decided that she needed to be here, then she needed to be here.</p><p> </p><p>“I am a Jedi,” Galahad tells herself. “I will find a way.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The Force leads her to a door. The veins come to a stop as the rock was cut away to make a frame. Whatever was on the other side is guarded by a thick slab of dark metal, cool under her hands.</p><p> </p><p>Galahad tries to reach her senses out again, to try and get a feel for what lies beyond. But the Dark Side wasn’t exactly known for its overabundance of clarity. There was something beyond the door, something powerful (something that perhaps she could use) but that was all she could sense.</p><p> </p><p>Feeling along the frame, the teenager looks for anything--some sort of panel, a switch, a keyhole. But machines had never been her strong suit, so if there is anything, it’s not anything obvious, and if she can't find the mechanism how can she possibly open--</p><p> </p><p>Wait. The mechanism is still there. The door <em>opens </em>, obviously. All it needs is a little...push.</p><p> </p><p>Standing back, Galahad closes her eyes and reaches out with the Force. She feels the slab of thick metal, traces out where it ends and the other parts begin. Sees how once activated, it will slide away into the wall. All it needed was the proper push.</p><p> </p><p>She starts pushing. Galahad pushes the weight of her urgency against the metal. She <em>needs </em>it to move.</p><p> </p><p>“Come <em>on </em>,” she bites out, the metal creaks and groans, slowly moving along with her will. With another burst of strengths the door slams to the side, the noise echoing through the tunnel.</p><p> </p><p>“There we go,” Galahad smiles, and steps forward, sure of herself. The red light follows. But here it is weaker--sickly.</p><p> </p><p>It is a small room, only a touch bigger than the original cave she swam into. The natural rock chiseled away into a round chamber, the only piece of furniture a rectangular altarpiece, also carved from stone. Chiseled into were images of fire, of war and conquest, looking all the more ominous cast in this red light.</p><p> </p><p>She sees no other means of exiting the room.</p><p> </p><p>The Dark Side is a physical weight now, like a flannel sheet draped over her body. Whatever she sensed before, whatever power was here, it was on this altar. Or inside of it.</p><p> </p><p>As she carefully approached the alter, Galahad found herself thinking of all those old adventure holos about archeologists and grave robbers. And how many important people bury themselves with traps. But there were no trigger plates or arrow traps, and as she gets close enough, she can make out letters among the carvings. The aurebesh is old, she squints to make out a few words by the stone light.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Darth Balan. Pure of Blood. Dark Lord of the Sith. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Not an altar--a tomb.</p><p> </p><p>“Of course,” a chuckle rises unbidden, “of <em> course </em>I find an ancient Sith tomb down here.” Chuckles turn to laughs, and it isn't even that funny. But she can’t stop laughing, doubling over as if in pain. Pressure at her sides, eyes pricking hot as she nearly falls over, catching herself on the lip of the stone monument.</p><p> </p><p>The fit subsides, but the Jedi does not let go of the Sith’s final resting place. The stone is cool and smooth underneath her fingers.</p><p> </p><p>“Why am I here?” Galahad sniffles, wiping at her face. <em> Have you brought me here to die?  </em>She asks that which brought her here. <em> To suffocate or to starve? To be buried her, beneath the Earth with them? </em></p><p> </p><p>Nausea rises in her gut, and she feels like she’s about to hurl; The Dark Side now feels like a weighted blanket over her. All that lives must one day die but--<em>not here, not now, please,</em> <b>please </b><em>I don’t want to die. I need to help my friends.</em> A strangled sob. Her throat feels tight, and her fingers start to ache with how tightly she grips the edge of the sarcophagus.</p><p> </p><p>Galahad may be a Jedi, but she is still a seventeen-year-old girl who has had a very, very long day. She is scared, and she is alone, and she wants more than anything in the galaxy was for someone to find her, to hug her, and to tell her that everything would be alright.</p><p> </p><p>She hates herself for the tears that slip down her cheeks. She hates them but she can’t <em>stop </em>them and she should be better, be stronger but—</p><p> </p><p>But all she can do now is cry, cry while trapped inside an ancient Sith tomb, feeling the Dark Side pressing in around her. Cry because it feels like there’s nothing else she can do, like every horrible thing anyone ever said to her was true.  Cry until the tears no longer come, and she feels so spent and so numb, that she curls up right there on the stone floor. Sleep comes for her not long after. This time, Galahad doesn’t even try to fight it as she slips into unconsciousness.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>In the darkness of sleep, the visions come.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> You are a Sith Pureblood, and that means you have power. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> The Empire is at war, and war culls the weak from the strong. </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em> A reassuring hand on your shoulder, and a voice in your ear. </em> <b> <em>Take what is yours. Use your anger. Strike down all that would oppose you. </em> </b> <em> You help Darth Malgus’ raid on the Jedi temple. You slay a Jedi and take their crystal, turning it red. Now you have a matching set, the Jar’Kai suits you well. You cut off your master’s head when the moment is right. </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> You are Darth Balan, Dark Lord of the Sith. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> The lightsabers thrum with life underneath your hands. You deflect blaster fire back at those who challenge you from a distance, you cross blades with any--Jedi or Sith--who comes too close. With each death you prove your power.<br/></em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> You see your ancestral homeworld of Korriban and the sprawling cities of Dromund Kaas. You have challengers, but your power only grows. You cut them down with your burning red blades. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> You live. You thrive. You conquer. You take on an apprentice of your own. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Time passes, your joints start to ache, and you don’t move as quickly as you once did. But age is not a weakness, and your mind remains your own. The apprentice at first overestimates your power, then underestimates, but they always learn for the next time. Eventually, they succeed, driving a lightsaber through your chest, the plasma burning away your heart. But you die with a smile on your lips. You have left behind a worthy successor, after all. </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Galahad opens her eyes, and the room is once more pitch black. In a blind panic, a wave of Force energy shoots out from her, cracking against the stone as the rock chips and veins glow with that sickly red light once more.</p><p> </p><p>But—something else. Something else moved. She heard it.</p><p> </p><p>The sarcophagus. The sharp scrape of the lid pushed aside.</p><p> </p><p>Rising to her feet, the girl is at once fearful and excited as she leans over to look inside.</p><p> </p><p>The body of a Sith Lord interred here millennia ago. The skull was humanoid, the bony protrusions marking it as Sith Pureblood. The robes were old, faded from time. What soon drew her notice though, was what she was holding. Two lightsabers lay clenched in her bony fists, crossed over Balan's chest. They were exactly how she had seen them, forged from black and red metal, the kyber crystals thrumming with the Force. This was what she had sensed.</p><p> </p><p>She reaches out, and the sabers fly into her hands as the ancient bones crack and snap like so much twigs. Relishing the feel of the cold metal against her palms, they feel like they were <em>made </em>for her hands. They’re heavier than the training sabers, but that may just have to do with their age. Galahad can’t help but smile, her earlier fear forgotten.</p><p> </p><p>Giddy, she starts to plan. She remembers the vision from earlier and knows the slaver’s ship isn’t too far away. If there isn’t a path to them she will <em>make </em>a path. The Force has brought her here, has brought her these lightsabers, so Galahad will use them gratefully. She hadn’t been allowed to go to Ilum, had been denied the chance to build her own saber and the Force had now gifted her with <em>two</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Wait, did they still—</p><p> </p><p>Finding the buttons, the red blades sprang to life, further illuminating the cave around her. The kyber crystals sing with use and it sounds so, so sweet.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” she breathes. “They still work.”</p><p> </p><p>She had never been shown Jar’Kai, her only training being Form I Shii-Cho that they taught all younglings. But, well, she’d figure it out.</p><p> </p><p>Galahad takes a few experimental swings, getting used to the weight. The Darkness presses in around her, no longer a construction, but a comfort, as if a hug.</p><p> </p><p>It is that gentleness that makes her pause. Galahad looks at the blades in her hands</p><p> </p><p>She tries to center herself, to try and sense the will of the Force--but here’s the thing that many Jedi forget: the Dark Side was as much a part of the Force as the Light Side was.</p><p> </p><p><b><em>You were brought here to find these weapons.</em></b> She feels more than she hears. <b><em>Use them. Free your friends and strike down your enemies.</em></b></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> It is not the Jedi way-- </em>
</p><p><br/><b><em>But you’ve never been a very good Jedi, have you?</em></b> The memories came. Of rejection, of ignorance. Those who preached equality but thought themselves so above her the hypocrisy stunk like bantha fodder. Angry, so angry--</p><p> </p><p>Where the Darkness screamed, the Light whispered. Galahad heard it anyway.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Your feelings do not matter, so much as what you chose to do with them.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>There is always a choice.</p><p> </p><p>She looks at the lightsabers again. Feels the thrum of the kyber crystals as she gazes into the blood-red blades. How many had they already struck down? How many more would she add to the count? </p><p> </p><p>Is that something she <em>really </em>wants?</p><p> </p><p>She brings the lightsabers closer to her, pointing them straight up the ceiling. Close enough to feel the heat of the plasma next to her skin, and blinked away sunspots.</p><p> </p><p>Galahad switches off the blades and places them on the top of the sarcophagus. “Red’s not much my color anyway,” she quips, even if there’s no one there to appreciate her wit. </p><p> </p><p>Galahad Dulak falters, but she does not Fall. The Darkness screams its frustrations at her, but like so many displeased teachers before It, she chooses to ignore it. She thinks that Master Qui-Gon would have been pleased with her. So would Sinube and Knori, if she gets out of this alive.</p><p> </p><p>Stop. Think. Breath.</p><p> </p><p>She hears the kyber again, singing with the Force--no, not singing. Screaming. The Sith bleed their crystals, and the pain is raw sandpaper against her mind when she looks outside of herself to feel it. Instinctively, she sends out a wave of soothing energy; the way she’d normally try to soothe a crying child. </p><p> </p><p>Galahad drops her gaze to the floor, focusing her attention on the red light of the stones as she lets her mind drift. It is then that she feels something else--a knot within the knot-- a new presence in the Force. She looks back into the sarcophagus <em> No, not new, </em> she pulls back part of the Sith cloak, and finds the square, geometric form of a Jedi holocron. <em> Just buried. </em></p><p> </p><p>The crystals have quieted, and the Dark Side no longer screams as she lifts the geometric device up out of the tomb. Galahad feels the thrum under her fingers once again, and feels like she could weep with joy.</p><p> </p><p>Moving away from the sarcophagus, she places the relic down and kneels before it. In almost no time, the gatekeeper emerges. “I am Master Zarai Vryna, of the Jedi Order,” they greet her, voice a calm blanket over Gal’s raw nerves. “What is it you wish to learn, young one?”</p><p> </p><p>“Hi,” she greets back, her smile shaky. “I need your help, Master Vryna. You’re my only hope.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  
</p><p>Darth Balan, Dark Lord of the Sith</p><p>curtesy of Star Wars Avatar Maker</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ofta. That was heavy.</p><p>As always, if you have any questions, thoughts, or just want to scream your feelings at me, comment below and let me know!</p><p>I am chess-blackfyre on tumblr</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The Light</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Galahad has Sith lightsabers, a Jedi holocron, and approximately 20% of a plan. The Force works in mysterious ways.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Well, this took longer than I thought I would to finish. Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Emotion, yet peace. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Ignorance, yet knowledge. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Passion, yet serenity. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Chaos, yet harmony. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Death, yet the Force. </em>
</p><p>--The Jedi Code, as it is first taught to the Younglings</p><hr/><p> </p><p>The togruta master, so long dead, smiled as they looked up at her. “You look too young to be a knight...where is your Master?”</p><p> </p><p>Gal looked away. She shouldn’t feel embarrassed--this was not the time or place to indulge such feelings--but the old sting of ‘failure’ and ‘washout’ was hard to shake. “I don’t have one.”</p><p> </p><p>An expression of sorrow flickered across the hologram’s face. “I see...I am sorry for your loss, young one.”</p><p> </p><p>“No, it’s not that--I have no master because I am no padawan. Galahad Dulak, Jedi Service Corps.”</p><p> </p><p>Thankfully, the ancient master did <em> not </em> get judgy. She is blessedly, thankfully, <em> helpful </em>. Having someone to talk to, if only to bounce ideas off of, provides some much-needed clarity.</p><p> </p><p>Starting with how damn stupid she had almost been. Rushing back to the ship and carving her way through the slavers would have made her feel better, sure. But it wasn’t  a plan. There’s ten of them, they have blasters, she’s out of practice, and running back there riding a Dark Side high was good way to get herself killed, lightsabers or no lightsabers.</p><p> </p><p>Talking to Master Vryna also helps her notice the rough outline of the spiral staircase that would emerge from the ceiling--and a crash course in electronics. It turns out, the actual Vryna was something of a gearhead back in the day, and her holocron had as much information on electrical engineering as she did on Jedi philosophy. Technology may have changed much in the millennia since her passing, but the laws of physics had not.</p><p> </p><p>“So,” Gal started as she unscrewed the ancient control panel with one of her hairpins. It too had been hidden behind a slab of false stone. “How did a Jedi holocron end up in a Sith Tomb?”</p><p> </p><p>“Balan, for all her faults, was a curious woman. She wished to gain what knowledge she could from me. Now, how many wires are attached to the main power cell?”</p><p> </p><p>Less than a minute later the ancient spiral staircase, forged from dark metal, descends into the center of the room. “Okay, so I know Darth Balan was, like evil and everything; but she had one heck of an interior designer.”</p><p> </p><p>“Half the appeal of the Sith is their aesthetic.”</p><p> </p><p>Galahad clips the lightsabers to her belt, and tears away part of the Sith’s cape to create an impromptu bag to carry Vryna’s holocron. The fabric is sturdy, but old, so all it takes is a firm tug to do the trick. The Jedi healer wonders if this technically makes her a grave robber, but figured the historians could yell at her once everyone was safe. Using a pull of the Force, she once more closes the ancient sarcophagus.</p><p> </p><p>The young woman climbed up the staircase into the light of day.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Coza Zavros was not one to easily panic. He was a member of the Jedi Order, and more than that he was a member of EduCorps. He could single-handedly wrangle a half-dozen Force-sensitive toddlers. He’d dealt with an outbreak of porgpox in the creche. He had seen Madame Jocasta before her morning caf. He was not someone easily given to fits of panic.</p><p> </p><p>But this? This was panic-inducing. He and Alivia were bound on a slave ship headed off to parts unknown, Force-suppressing collars around their necks and unable to signal anyone for help. The Togruta hadn’t a clue where Galahad was, or if she was even still alive. Heck, he wasn’t even entirely sure where <em> they </em>were, or if they were even still on Sarkhai.</p><p> </p><p>As Coza was fighting off a straight-up panic attack, Alivia was distracting herself by thinking about plants, mentally reviewing the different species she had encountered on her walk this morning.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>As they approached the slaver’s camp, Master Vryna gave Galahad a quick crash course in stealth tactics. Turns out, all those midnight snack runs sneaking into the kitchens were coming back to help her. Also, mind-tricks weren’t just for convincing people to do things for you--they could also be convinced that they didn’t see you at all. Or that the snapped branch they heard was just some of the local wildlife.</p><p> </p><p>Sneaking her way through the slaver’s camp, Galahad pressed her body against the hull of the ship, seeking out the Force-signatures of her friends. There. Still muted, but a bit more aware.</p><p> </p><p>She removed one of Balan’s sabers from her belt, and considered her options. Once she started cutting, it would probably set off some sort of alarm, or even outer hull defenses. <em> Trust in the Force </em>.</p><p> </p><p>Galahad ignited the blade. The lightsaber glowed gold.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Alivia’s collar dropped to the ground, hers and Coza’s now so much a slags of hot metal.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Move move move, </em>” all three teenagers broke into a sprint. Shouts and curses echoed behind them. Blaster bolts narrowly avoided as the Jedi zig-saved through the trees, keeping each other in sight.</p><p> </p><p>Alivia watched as bark broke and splintered, the bolts missing her friends by centimeters. They needed help. They needed <em> allies.  </em></p><p> </p><p>The Rattataki stopped, dropping to one knee as she pressed a hand to the forest floor. “Liv, the hell are you—“</p><p> </p><p><em> “Block the path,” </em>she breathed, and the earth responded.</p><p> </p><p>Months of natural growth occurred in moments, the undergrowth rising, tangling, hindering. So accommodating.</p><p> </p><p>A few minutes later, Galahad ushered them into a dark cave, the place thrumming...strangely with the Force. Curious.</p><p> </p><p>“What,” Coza gasped for air, “What the hell did you do?”</p><p> </p><p>Alivia smiled at her friends. “I asked nicely. All you ever really need to do is ask nicely.”</p><p> </p><p>The AgriCorps were no simple farmers, they encountered the Living Force in its wild state, in the aftermath of hurricanes, and the midst of flood and drought. Their use of the Force matched this natural state. Not the Pure Light of the Temple, but the warm glow of a forest fire.</p><p> </p><p>Warm and strong. Galahad feels like that now.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>With another spark of the ancient wires, the staircase rose once more up into the ceiling. The three Jedi sat in the red glow of Balan’s tomb, the rock’s light stronger with their presence. There was still Darkness here but it was...manageable. Annoying, more than anything else.</p><p> </p><p>Galahad explained what happened as best she could. Her escape, finding this cave, the Force-responsive stone and coming across Darth Balan’s tomb. “Also, they weren’t gold when I found them.” In actuality, only one of the crystals glowed gold. The other crystal remains a stubborn, violent red, and Galahad doesn’t have the time to think about why that might be. They had bigger problems to worry about.</p><p> </p><p>“We have two options,” Galahad continued. “We can hide here, and wait for the situation to change, or we can run like hell and hope we meet someone who can help before they catch us.”</p><p> </p><p>“Both are...horrible options, frankly,” Coza’s montrals twitched. “That’s the best you got: run or hide?”</p><p> </p><p>“To be fair, I’m surprised we made it this far.”</p><p> </p><p>“Both have their risks,” Liv commented. “The forest is wild here. Barely touched. It will take a while to reach anyone. Many opportunities for them to catch us.”</p><p> </p><p>“But we can’t just sit down here forever! We’re not that far from their ship they could find us. We don’t have any food--how can we wait for rescue to come when no one even knows we’re here?!” That was when something clicked. “We need to get a message out.”</p><p> </p><p>Galahad made a ‘thank you master obvious’ face. “Yeah, well, I checked and there aren’t  exactly any thousand year old comm consols lying around down here.”</p><p> </p><p>But that didn’t stop the togruta, he moved towards the staircase's control panel, eyeing the ancient parts. “Did you know that kyber crystals aren’t just used in lightsabers?"</p><p> </p><p>The two women shared a look. “Where are you going with this?”</p><p> </p><p>He ran a ringer along the wires and components, nodding at what he found. “The facets of the crystal amplify energy waves, it’s what makes them perfect for lightsabers, laser weapons--and long-range com devices.”</p><p> </p><p>“Coza, I <em> love </em>where your brain is at.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Disassembling one of the lightsabers and using it and scavenged parts from the ancient electronics to construct a rudimentary comm device was a stroke of genius. Brilliant idea. Wonderful idea. Doesn’t mean he actually knew how to do it. </p><p> </p><p>Well, okay, he <em> sort of </em>knew what he was doing. He had a general idea. The physics were solid, yes, but he was just working with parts over a thousand years old and no actual tools. Plus Coza couldn’t shake the thought that the signal could be intercepted. That he could just bring the slavers back down on their heads.</p><p> </p><p>“You must trust in the Force, and in each other,” Vryna counsels. The holocron is sitting beside him, watching his work. He doubts this was the kind of advice vaunted master intended when constructing her holocron, but it was what they needed her help with.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, well,” he set down the piece of metal and wires and rubbed at his face, knee bouncing up and down. “The Force isn’t providing much clarity as to how to compensate for a channel differentiation.”</p><p> </p><p>“For what it’s worth, I think you’re doing quite well.”</p><p> </p><p>“Really,” Coza snorted. “Because I feel like I’m barely holding it together.” Galahad and Alivia both seemed like they were doing fine<em>. </em>She still had the golden lightsaber clipped to her belt, and the AgriCorps was off seeing if there were any nice mushrooms they could snack on.</p><p> </p><p>“Present a facade, and act as if it is a reality. The world will respond as if it is.”</p><p> </p><p>“Wait,” the red togruta blinked. “Are you saying to just ‘fake it till we make it’?”</p><p> </p><p>A smile crossed the ancient hologram’s face. “Let me impart some ancient Jedi wisdom--almost everyone in the galaxy is basically just faking it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Even the Masters?”</p><p> </p><p>“Generally, they’ve just learned how to hide it better. Take each problem as it comes. Focus on what you can do, rather than what you cannot. Now, if we cannot limit it to the secure Temple signal, then perhaps you should program it to emit the broadest one possible.”</p><p><br/>The boy took a deep breath in, and a deep breath out. “Thank you, Master Vryna”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The beacon was lit. All they could do was trust that someone helpful would find it. And keep the girl with the lightsaber parked closest to the stairs just in case someone unhelpful did instead.</p><p> </p><p>No one could even consider going to sleep that night. The three teens retreated further into the cave system, just outside the doorway. It was the longest, tensest seven hours of Galahad’s life.</p><p> </p><p>When day broke, so did their vigil. They sensed someone approaching over their heads. The familiar Force-signatures of some of their captors overhead, but with a new presence. They felt the thrum of violence, of lives ending, as they heard the familiar sounds of a lightsaber.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s alright,” an authoritative voice calls out once the staircase lowered all the way. “You’re safe now.”</p><p> </p><p>The three rise up from the depths of the cave and there is a Jedi Master. He is human, with a long white beard and an air of absolute authority. Around him were the bodies of at least five of the slavers, some with smoking stumps where their heads used to be.</p><p> </p><p>Master Jorus C’baoth. Galahad knew him by reputation. <em> An idealist </em> , polite Jedi called him. <em> An arrogant douchecanoe </em>, others said when you got a few fire whiskeys in them. The explain things as best they can. The slavers. The collars. The escape. Apparently, their contact had already known something was wrong when they didn't check in last night, and asked the Master to go and see what was happening. From their, he managed to find the slaver camp, and followed their pursuers to the cave.</p><p> </p><p>“You did what you could, I’m sure,” the master lays a hand on her shoulder. “After all, you three are only Service Corps. What else could you have done?”</p><p> </p><p>So, definitely a douchecanoe. Galahad decides to give their rescuer the courtesy of biting her tongue.</p><p> </p><p>They debriefed back on Master C’baoth’s ship, their own having been gutted for parts and other valuables. He asks them to start from the beginning. Galahad tells him about feeling the warning, waking up in a cell and making her escape. Interest sparked in the Knight’s eye as she describes the warm rock caves that run below the earth, thrumming with the Force. Galahad tells him of Darth Balan’s tomb, Master Vryna’s holocron, and of using the Sith’s lightsaber to first cut through the ship, and then used a kyber crystal to create a comm device to contact them.</p><p> </p><p>“With the help of Master Vryna,” she held up the holocron, “Coza was able to cannibalize the lightsaber and use the kyber crystal to make a crude communication device. Hence how we got a message out to you.”</p><p> </p><p>He immediately demands that they hand all of it over. “These are important artifacts, and must be carefully studied back at the temple. We cannot risk you breaking them.”</p><p> </p><p>The three exchange looks. Alivia hands over the holocron, and Coza hands over the communication device.  What the masters will do with the red crystal—study it, purify it, throw it into a sun—Galahad doesn’t know and finds she doesn’t particularly care. She does not hand over the second lightsaber with its golden crystal.</p><p> </p><p>C’baoth says nothing, on account of him not even knowing it existed. The Healer may have forgotten to mention that exact detail. Not lying, just cultivating the truth in a certain way. Alivia and Coza say nothing to correct her. She half expects him to say something, to call her out on it, but he either doesn't notice or doesn't care.</p><p> </p><p>What’s the harm, really? It’s...a souvenir. A touchstone of what she’s gone through. What they accomplished. The golden kyber crystal hums its approval, hidden beneath her tunic. Clearly this was the Will of the Force. No one seems to notice it when they return to the Temple either.</p><p> </p><p>Galahad spends a lot of time thinking about what she should actually do with Darth Balan's lightsaber. She could take it apart to hide it better. She could fess up and turn it over to the historians. She could sneak out late at night and practice with it--she already knew her old Shii-Cho katas were rusty from lack of practice. In the end, she places the saber at the bottom of her personal trunk, wrapped up in the soft, too big robe she had grabbed years ago. </p><p> </p><p>There it stays for years, only occasionally fished out when she meditated in her room, disassembling and reassembling the hilt with her mind, the kyber humming with the Force as its golden light shone through the room. Then, after returning from Maridun--collapsing on her bed and slipping into a nice ten hour coma--Galahad pockets the crystal once more, and accompanies Aayla Secura and her new padawan to Illum.</p><p> </p><p>As the MediCorps now served as battlefield healers, the High Council, in their wisdom, have now graciously allowed them to construct their own lightsabers. And by ‘allowed’ they mean: ‘everyone not currently keeping someone from bleeding out get your butts to Illum and report back to the Temple for remedial saber lessons’.</p><p> </p><p>And here she had gotten on so well with the Lurmen by <em> not </em>carrying a weapon.</p><p> </p><p>Brought to the mouth of the kyber cave, Galahad reveals that she already has her crystal, taken from the tomb of a Sith Lord. The ancient grandmaster looks up at her with a distinct expression of bemusement. “Remember now, I do. Master Qui-Gon it was who brought you to the Temple.”</p><p> </p><p>With a smile and a shrug, she moved onto the next phase. She takes the hilt apart piece by piece, leaving the outer shell of the lightsaber in Huyang’s care. The old droid was fascinated by the appearance of a blade as old as he was.</p><p> </p><p>Reaching out into the Force, feeling the call of certain parts over others, Galahad began to construct a blade all her own. When she opens her eyes to see the completed work, the Healer doesn’t miss the similarities to Darth Balan’s own blades. But that was all they were—similarities. She was not Balan, and this was no longer Balan’s lightsaber.</p><p> </p><p>Galahad ignites her blade. The room glows with golden light.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p>art by radioactivepeasant on tumblr</p><p>
  
</p><p>Galahad's lightsaber, curtesy of Saber Forge</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Jorus C'baoth, who even the most conservative of Jedi consider "a bit much". He's from the Legends verse and specifically the novel "Outbound Flight".</p><p>Hope you enjoyed this story and yay! Galahad now has her own lightsaber</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Dun dun duh!</p><p>I hope you've enjoyed this story, leave a comment and/or a kudos if you do! If always if you have any thoughts/questions/concerns or just plain want to scream your feelings at me, comment below and let me know!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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